Saturday, October 11, 2008

Enough

These are sobering times. The party’s over. But it was a party we found exhausting. All along this wild ride of greed and consumption, some of us kept turning toward simplicity and responsible living, tried to create space in our lives.

I wrote this poem in 2000, thinking about Buy Nothing Day. The theme that year was “Enough!”

In America, the Friday after Thanksgiving had become traditionally a day of hectic consumption, huge sales, the malls jammed, people trying to “get their Christmas shopping done.” (An odd way to see giving, isn’t it?)

Those of us who observed Buy Nothing Day simply pledged not to spend any money that day. Sounds simple, but it wasn’t. You’d be baking and run out of sugar and have to borrow a cup from a neighbor, like in the old days, when folks just didn’t “run to the store.” You’d get bored, but couldn’t go to a movie. You had to make sure you had gas in the car.

This poem sprang off that experience to imagine a simpler and more satisfying life that would be in many ways a throwback to the world of my childhood at its best. In the poem, I assumed people would choose this life. Instead, the busy consumer economy/lifestyle has toppled all around us. Yet, perhaps we will find new satisfactions in a more down-to-earth way of living.

Enoughby Jeanne Desy

One year, children, everyone got fed up . . .and stopped buying.Nobody went to the mall that year,nobody went to WalMart orate fast food or frozen pizza,flew on a plane, bought a CD.The economy came to a halt.

Unemployment rose to 50 percent.The people who liked to work found workand the rest stayed home with the kids.Everyone planted gardens,and cooked their own foodand cleaned their own houses,everyone did their own laundry,washed their own cars in the summer twilight.People wore slippers around the house.

The market declined for designer shoes,theme parks and day care, acrylic nailsand Prozac, cellphones and pagers.Ringing and beeping tapered off, andthe air was spacious and quiet.Nobody played the lottery, couldn’t afford to,and no one bought guns.There was not much to steal anymore,and not much to fight over now.Everyone had enough to eatand a roof over their heads.That seemed to be what mattered.

The tax base eroded—there wasno money for missiles now, no money for war.Young men stayed home and tended gardens.Old men designed wonderful toys,grandmas made biscuits and everyone learned to sew.Happiness blossomed, addictions declined,no money for drugs now, anyway nothing to escape.People grew their own catnip and drank teamade with mint from their gardens,and ate nastursiums and heirloom tomatoes.

Without ads, the TV went quiet.There were no celebrities now,everyone made their own musicwith home-made drums and ancient guitars,and told the old stories and wrote poemswith pencil on paper and read them out loudover the breakfast table. Factories closed.

The planet cooled, the air cleared.You could see the stars.Wildflowers grew where there had been lawns,rabbits came back to the yard, and foxes and owls.The old folks sat on porches with dogs at their feet,and shelled peas. Barefoot womenhung sheets to dry in the sun.Everyone just took care of themselvesand each other, andno one was rich anymore, so no one felt poor.Now that there wasn’t so much,there was more than enough.

The Five Remembrances

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.[a Buddhist chant, tr. Thich Nhat Hanh]